


Trapdoor

by philippcarlyle



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguing, Established Relationship, Feels, M/M, P.T. is a proud circus dad, Period-Typical Homophobia, Phil on the other hand has some troubles with...all this, That's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philippcarlyle/pseuds/philippcarlyle
Summary: A show doesn't go according to plan. Things go downhill from then on.Can P.T. calm Philip's mind?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based on this tumblr prompt: "Don't you dare lie to me. Not about this."
> 
> as per usual, this is not beta'ed and I am not a native speaker
> 
> but I hope you enjoy it anyways ;)
> 
> [title from: Twenty One Pilots "Trapdoor"]

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad!”

“I beg to differ.”

“You _beg_? I’d like to see that.”

“This isn’t funny, Barnum.”

Philip is back to using his last name, this really doesn’t appear funny, every exchanged word angrier than the last, more upset.  P.T. rises to stand in Philips way. It stops the younger man’s pacing for exactly five seconds. Then he spins around and continues, ignoring P.T.

“Is this all a joke to you?” Philip asks.

P.T. considers the question. Philip is serious, in his ‘business mode’ - as P.T. likes to call it. Usually he can talk his way out and into almost anything. But this seems different and P.T. really thinks about the issue at hand.

“I like to appear like this, you know that. It’s an act. And it makes things easier, allows a fun life.”

“We all do this to make life bearable, but this is different. You used me.”

“I – no, that’s not true, Philip. I’d never do-“

“You never what? Don’t you dare lie to me. _Not about this_. Don’t tell me you talked me into the circus because you “liked” me. You liked what I had to offer.”, Philip replies sharply. He stops in front of the showman, his piercing blue eyes as cold as the sea. He leaves no room to argue and P.T. raises his hands, apologizing.

“I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t undo what happened. Women with beards – fine, albino people, black people – all great, tall and tiny people – but P.T., there’s a line. And I think you might have crossed it. I don’t know whether the crowds will come back.”

P.T. shoots him a dark look. Philip might be right, Phineas was bold last night. Maybe too demanding, too different for their visitors. But he doesn’t let Philip tell him what he did was forbidden. Not at the safe place they obtained. Not when he fought so hard, not when he is so proud of what he's done.

“What are you implying? Do you wanna leave us now? Leave _me_? Regain your posture, brush off the dirt and get back to mommy and daddy? What a precious boy, that finally came to his senses,” P.T. spits. His body is tense but for his whole life, P.T.’s weapons of choice were his words.

“Of course not. You are so stubborn, this is truly ridiculous,” Philip growls.

“What’s your problem then? I thought we wanted to give them a show?”

“But not with you practically snogging me out there!”, Philip shouts back. “We are partners! We should talk about your stupid ideas so I can tell you _not to do them!_ ”

P.T. breathes deeply in and out and puts his hands in his hair to stop himself from throwing something. He hears Philip sigh and closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to argue.

“I’m staying with Anne tonight. We’re talking about this tomorrow.” He hears Philip's voice and it sounds hoarse. P.T. imagines the handsome face with upset eyes, swallowing angry tears. He wants to wipe them away. Footsteps faint and the air tastes dusty, heavy.

When P.T. opens his eyes and releases his hair from his death grip, Philip is gone. His fingers hurt.

Now, with no one in immediate danger other than himself, P.T. picks up one of the whiskey glasses and throws it against the shabby wall. Another one follows. And the carafe. Some left-over drops run down the wall and get swallowed by the floor.

He gets an unopened bottle of cheap liquor out of the cabinet. Usually he drinks with Philip, or with the troupe to celebrate. He never liked Philip drinking just for drunkenness’ sake. But he doesn’t care about Philip or his bad habits. He doesn’t care for Philip. Why would he.  
He can go back to Anne, pretend to be a ‘highly respected’ member of society. P.T. takes a swig out of the bottle. His glasses lie shattered around him after all.

* * *

 

_Everyone gather around for a show_  
_Watch as this man disappears as we know_  
_Do me a favor and try to ignore_  
_As you watch him fall through a bleeding trapdoor_

_..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on this tumblr prompt: "Now is not the time to be looking at me like that!”
> 
> Unbeta'ed, I'm not a native speaker
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> [lyrics once again from Twenty One Pilots "Trapdoor"]

_He wakes up early today_  
_Throws on a mask that will alter his face_  
_Nobody knows his real name_  
_But now he just uses one he saw on a grave_

 

* * *

 

The show starts. The crowd is roaring, the troupe is fantastic. P.T. leads their opening number and the cheers increase. Hidden in the shadows, apart from the ring, stands Philip. He watches closely as the troupe enters, following P.T. He feels himself tapping his foot in time with the music and can’t tear his eyes from the spectacle in front of him. Everything is red and golden, the walls painted with laughter and awe. It usually takes his breath away as if it is his first time watching. It isn’t. But he couldn’t tell, because the ringmaster flashes the brightest grin at him from across the building. His rational thinking stops, it resonates in his whole body. He feels his heart pick up the beat of the music, faster, faster, faster. What his logical mind doesn’t even try to comprehend gets now all absorbed. No filter, no pretence. His eyes are glued to the show man, dancing, singing and downright glowing. He forces his hands to stop shaking, tones down the ecstasy. He shouldn’t be so amazed.

The acts rush through the evening and Philip realizes belated, that this applause is the last for tonight.  He claps along with the masses and remembers that Phineas wanted to talk to him after the show. He shakes his hands and head like a wet dog, to clear his thoughts. It only works partially, but there is no time to think about it. He doesn’t want to, anyways.

Philip enters the room where most of his chosen family already changes clothes, some have even left already. Philip can’t hold it against them since the day was long and exhausting. A grinning Charles passes him and Philip gives him a distracted thumbs-up. He sees the ringmaster through a half closed door, soft light spreads out and low hums fill the rooms.

It shouldn’t be this hard. One foot in front of the other, the younger man makes his way through everything backstage, side-steps Constantine and slips through the door. He closes it behind him, to lock out the noises. And ears and eyes. P.T. is not facing him and Philip allows himself a moment to really take in the man’s appearance. He’s dressed in his ringmaster attire, but got rid of the top-hat and opened up the upper buttons of his shirt and coat. If Philip is being honest, he looks like a paradox. Buzzing with energy in his arms and legs, tired with his eyes and mouth. Happy with his hands nibbling at his clothes, worried with the nervous tapping of his foot.

“What did you want?” Philip asks with a clipped no-nonsense tone and claps his hands tightly behind his back. It gives him some safety and his squared shoulders reinforce his confidence.

P.T. tilts his head, an indication, that he heard Philip, but doesn’t speak. He takes his time to turn around and Philip notices how his shadow morphs.

“I wanted – no, _needed_ – to apologize to you. Properly,” the show man starts and walks towards Philip. It causes Philip to step back. P.T. stops in his tracks and slightly raises his hands. ‘I’m sorry’.

“What for, exactly?” Philip knows how he sounds. But he is not patronising the show man, he simply wants to see, whether P.T. really understood the issue at hand. The man had a way with words that made it difficult to keep up with and hold up against. Philip has to try at least.

“For the last show,” P.T. immediately picks up and sways at his place. Philip can see how he wants to move. He doesn’t want the show man near him right now and P.T. considers that - he stays where he is.

“I shouldn’t have…uhm. It was wrong of me to kiss you there, I’m really sorry. I got carried away and didn’t think about your reaction or anyone else’s for that matter. Or that you didn’t want that. I apologize.” P.T.’s voices fades into a whisper. Philip sighs, because he knew he wanted to talk. He said so himself, last night. But he gets the feeling, he might not be ready.

“I accept your apology,” Philip forces himself to say.

“Thank you.”

They younger man turns away, he cannot bear to look at the man with his head bowed down, eyes shiny and dull at the same time. Shiny with tears? Dull with remorse, Philip assumes.

“I talked to Anne.” Philip says. He sees P.T. wince, but keeps talking. This is important to him and he wants to be heard by the show man. “We were lucky there wasn’t a gigantic mob just yet and no one tried to murder us or anyone of the troupe. And she is right, you know? We are always at risk, always provoking. But you might have made this venture impossible.”

“Phil, I-“

“No, don’t. No nick names and no more apologies. I accepted it, I have not yet forgiven it and I will not forget it either. We have to focus on the situation now. Now is not the time to be looking at me like that,” Philip continues, although part of him meekly refuses. How much would he love to have P.T.’s attitude, his carelessness, but that’s what got them here. He can’t let it destroy his family, his new life. P.T. was right, he didn’t want to go back to his previous life style and the circus practically saved him. P.T. did.

“We need to find a balance. We have business to talk about and the circus to care for. I don’t think I can take more.” Although I want to. Philip watches the older carefully. He spots the words, their implication, hanging in between them too.

“You’re giving up.” Phineas murmurs and the defeat breaks Philip’s heart.

“If it means I get to keep everything I was granted so far. Yes, then I give up on – on –“

“Us.” The ringmaster provides bitterly. Philip stifles a whimper, his hands hurt from his vehement grip. But his rigid posture is nothing compared to the words. Each one cuts deeper into him, he feels it singe into his heart, his soul.

“Yes.”

P.T. takes a deep breath. Philip wants to cross the distance between them. Instead, he pushes another step backwards.

“What does that include? Do you want set meetings? Banned topics?” P.T. asks lightly, but Philip senses the disappointment and hurt, as if the ringmaster had yelled at him. He would have preferred some yelling.

“I’m not sure…no. We’re friends, I can’t-“

“You can’t what now? I’m sorry Phil, but if you’re saying you want everything to stay the exact same _then I_ have to give up on this. I can’t act ‘friendly’ and ‘fun’ around you, bantering and teasing when I know I can’t tell you later it was all jokes, that I love you, your ideas. When I know we won’t go to my house, instead of separate ways, when I know you will not wake up next to me. When I have to see you get closer to Anne again and see you kiss her, instead of – instead of me.”

Philip drops his hands and feels the tension leave his shoulders over his back with a shudder. Only as they run down his face, he recognises the tears. They don’t stop with P.T.’s talking.

“I-“ he chokes on his next words. Vigorous, he wipes over his face. “I’m so sorry.”

He approaches the tall, upset man. Only inches apart, he sees all the worry lines, the hurt in his eyes and a desperate longing that makes him want to leap back to him. Take back all he has said. Philip wants to go back, only a few days back would be enough. To laughter, to taunts. To P.T. picking Philip up because he disagrees with him, to a late night drink in a cosy bar. To hidden kisses in the morning sun. To forbidden touches behind closed doors. To tender looks and loving promises. To hope.

Philip inhales and shakily exhales once. P.T.’s eyes meet his and it’s all Philip needs to rise to his tip-toes. Accompanied by a sigh, he presses a kiss to the other man’s lips. He feels P.T. desperately react, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss within seconds. For a moment, Philip lets himself go. He grabs at everything he can reach, his hands wander from P.T.’s chest to his neck, draw him closer and tug his hair. He sighs into the other man’s mouth, opens his eyes and hides his face in P.T.’s neck. The taller man trails kisses down his ear and jaw.

“I love you too, Phin,” Philip breathes. He stumbles out of the embrace, away from P.T.’s chasing lips and warm hands. Philip wipes his tears away one last time, before he turns around. Not able to speak another word, he runs. Out of the room, he doesn’t dare to look up and picks up a quick, determined pace. It was, what he had to do, he tells himself. A cut, an end. He shouldn’t have kissed P.T. But if he wants to go through with what is right – he had to. One last time taste those lips, feel the slight stubble, have those strong arms wrapped tightly around him.

It’s these thoughts, which keep him awake this night. Not the fond memories, but the feeling of loss. It physically hurts the young man, keeps him tossing and pacing and finally crying. He wants to grab his coat and boots and leave his home, race down streets and tear down the doors to P.T.’s house. Run up those stairs, slither over the marble and find the man, just as awake in his own bed.

It’s these thoughts, which keep him awake. This night, and the following. He cannot get up. He has to. The show must go on.

* * *

 

 _He pretends he's okay but you should see_  
_Oh, him in bed late at night, he's petrified_  
_Take me out, finish this waste of a life_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry?


End file.
